Death of a Reaper
by Pepkie
Summary: After the death of Grell, William T. Spears decides bury himself in his work. Eventually the office boys aren't enough so Will decides to go on a recon/soul collection to show them how its done. This leads to the observation of an aspiring author newly awoken from a year long comatose. Said author has a flare for the color red and an interesting story that catches Will's attention.
1. Grell's Death

A trail. A trail of blood.

The normally comforting colour filled William T. Spears with a sense of nameless terror as his eyes followed the erratically spattered droplets.

"Grell?" He calls softly.

The flamboyant reaper had chased their target down the garden path as it had fled. But now, neither target nor reaper was anywhere in sight. Avoiding the glistening trail of blood, William advances further in amongst the plants.

"Sutcliff!" He calls hoarsely. He wasn't sure if the demon they were hunting was still in range, and for that he had to be cautious. On this area of the path, the trails cuts jaggedly into the bushes. Will stops hesitantly. Maybe it wasn't Grell at all. Maybe the demon had crawled here to succumb to its injuries. With that thought in mind, will pushes through the bushes and into the clearing beyond. There was nothing of interest over here at first glance, but upon further examination, the dark haired reaper lets out a soft gasp as he spots a huddled figure across the way.

"Sutcliff? What are you doing over here?" He asks, keeping his voice formal despite the uneasy feeling he was getting. "The targets been eradicated I presume." At the lack of response, William strides over and kneels beside the crimson clad man. "Grell. Do get up. I've had enough of the nights exuberances."

Grell looks up slowly and fixes a dilated gaze on the older reaper. "Will~ You found me." He mumbles drunkenly, tilting his head to the side.

The dark haired man rolls his eyes, secretly relived about his partners safety. "Stop messing around Sutcliff. Our target has been destroyed, therefore we should return back to the institute." He says, grabbing Grell's arm and hauling him to his feet. He's stopped as the younger man gives out a pained gasp before leaning heavily on his taller counterpart.

"William darling..." He trails off slowly, his eyes avoiding Will's questioning glare.

"What are you going on about now?" William snaps impatiently, resisting the urge to push him away. Then his eyes travel down and he inhales sharply. For what was hiding beneath grells jacket was enough to bring back that thoughtless terror he'd been trying so hard to destroy. The redhead whimpers softly as William takes in the excessive amounts of blood staining his front.

"Its not your blood." He mumbles as he lowers the younger reaper back onto the grass again. "You.. must've been exceptionally aggressive when you attacked the demon Grell. That's it."

Grell smiles weakly and lets his gaze travel to the stars above. "I didn't get him Will..." Slowly he rolls his head to the side and looks up at the dark haired reaper, a serene smile on his lips. "He got me~" He giggles, a low gurgling sound that made the hairs on Williams neck stand up.

William had seen Grell go through many phases during the years he'd known him. But never had he seen the scarlet killer look so... calm.

"We need to get you back to the institute. We'll get you help Grell." Will chokes out, attempting to hide the sting of tears behind hid eyes. where was this sudden emotion coming from? Quickly he blinks away the tears and adds. "You still need to finish your paperwork, Sutcliff. I'm not letting you slip by again." Carefully, he lifts the reaper into his arms, careful not to jostle him too much.

"What if I don't want to get better, William?"

Will doesn't even miss a beat as he strides through the bushes back to the path. "You have no choice. We've got another job to finish tomorrow and I'm not inclined to do it on my own." He says quietly. "we're short on staff as it is."

Grell laughs painfully. splattering blood over his saviours pristine suit. "How like you. Always worrying about getting the job done." He sighs, the action coming out more like a wheeze. "No one will miss me darling. I'm a screw up and you know it." He says weakly, letting his head fall limp against Wills chest.

Where was this coming from? Where was his companions normally cheerful exterior? The one thing that never ceased to amaze William, even during his most stressful hours. Without it... No. He didn't want to think about that.

"Sutcliff!" He snaps angrily. "Stay awake! I wont have you passing out on me now. You WILL get better, understood?"

The redheaded man groans softly in response as Will continues his trek down the path, his strength and will fading fast. By this time, the trail of blood had already dried, speckling the path with black dots. A macabre pattern of deathly designs.

"Okay Grell." Will says stiffly. "You're going to be fine. I promise." He grinds out hoarsely. Though whether to comfort Grell or himself, he wasn't sure. However, by the time he had reached the end of the garden, his crimson clad reaper had already ceased to exist, his hand falling limply beside him. Wide eyes staring up at William T. Spears with a look of total adoration.

He was too late... Grell was dead.


	2. The Bet

Five years later...

Behind a stack of papers, the dark haired figure gives a frustrated sigh, throwing his quill down angrily. It was Sunday night. A time that usually consisted of a calming bath followed by tea and biscuits for William T. Spears. But with the recent rise in soul collections, his relaxing night would have to wait.

"Come now William darling~ Why don't you take a break? Perhaps take a walk with me~?"

A tinkling laugh follows as the wispy voice echoes through Will's head. He tenses suddenly as the ghost of his late subordinate dances around his office. After so many years he could still envision the scarlet reaper as if he could burst through the door any second.

"Enough Sutcliff!" He bellows, standing up suddenly enough to shove his neatly stacked papers onto the floor. Bracing his hands on the desk, he hangs his head in an attempt to control his breathing. The death of Grell had taken a massive toll on him personally, yet he couldn't figure out why.

"Because you couldn't save me?" The voice giggles cruelly. "Oh Willy~ Why didn't you move faster?"

Quickly he squeezes his eyes shut against the threat of tears. This part of his mind, the guilty part, was commonly found nagging at him when he was most vulnerable. When finishing overtime, even alone in the comfort of his own home it would remind him of how he had let down a fellow reaper.

"Cry~ Live with the fact that I'm dead because of you."

William knew that Grell would never say these things to him. Would he..? No... The Grell he remembered was too light-hearted, albeit annoying at times. He smiles ever so slightly at the memory of the many times Grell had made a fool of himself while under his care. Never again would he witness his antics, regardless of how frustrating.

With a sigh he flops down heavily into his chair and props his elbows on the desk, head in his hands. Surrounded by nothing but scattered papers, he lets silent tears fall onto the smooth wooden surface.

"I'm sorry Grell." He mumbles.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

A sharp knock echoes through the office, startling Will from his fitful rest. Giving a quick glance around at the scattered sheets of paperwork he realizes that he hadn't gone home last night, instead falling asleep at his desk. With a scowl, he stands up to retrieve his work when another knock sounds from the door. Sighing, he sets the papers down and quickly fixes his ruffled hair before opening the door.

"G'afternoon boss."

Standing before him was three of his most promising subordinates. Ronald Knox, Eric Slingby, and Alan Humphries. They all give an acknowledging nod before Ronald speaks up again.

"You mind if we step in for a sec'? There's something we'd like t' discuss with ya."

Pushing up his glasses and assuming an air of higher status, Will steps back and allows the three to enter before shutting the door quietly behind them.

"What is it, Knox?" He asks harshly, once again sitting behind his desk.

This time Alan speaks, his cultured voice very different from Ron's. "Its come to our attention that production has been slowing down as of late." He states, standing up straighter. "Perhaps its time to train new recruits to replace some of our... reduced staff." They all new that Grells death was a touchy subject around their superior and tried to avoid it at all costs. "To keep up with the increased amount of deceased souls being collected of course." Eric adds, seeing Williams expression harden.

The three reapers stiffen as he narrows his eyes behind his glasses, fixing them all in an icy glare. "Are you saying that soul collection has gotten too much for you?" He asks, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Nah. We were reborn for this. What we weren't meant for was overtime. And if we keep up like this, there's going to be more of it." The two to Rd reaper huffs. "Which means more work and less play for all of us."

"I see." William staples his fingers and leans back in his chair, purposely keeping the others in suspense. They all fidget imperceptibly as he looks them over curiously. "Perhaps you're all becoming unresponsive to the task of the reaper." He drawls dramatically. "In that case, maybe I should show you how its done."

Swiftly, he flicks open the closest case file and lays it on the desk. "Jordan McGrath. 26 years of age. Death by mercury poisoning." He pushes the file towards the expectant males. "In exactly two months, Mr. McGrath will drop dead at the age of 27. This date will also be exactly five years after his miraculous revival from a two year comatose."

The three reapers look down at the file sceptically. "And this has to do with our short staff... how?" Eric inquires.

Standing up, their boss snatches the file and closes it with an audible click. "Of I can complete the recon and collection of his soul within the two month period without having to endure overtime, then you can complete your case files complaint free. Agreed?"

"Hold up! Hold up! You expect us to gamble with the fact that we're short staffed?!" Knox accuses angrily. "That's no way to-"

"Agreed."

The small voice cuts Ronald off as all eyes turn to Alan, his own eyes level with their superiors. "And if you fail, within the boundaries of standard soul collection, then you put us in charge of training the new staff. Agreed?"

Will raises an eyebrow, mildly surprised by Alan's bargain. "Fine. But I promise you that won't be necessary."

"we'll see." is the only reply he gets as the brunette male exits the office, a silent Eric and fuming Ronald following in his wake.

With a heavy sigh, Will pushes up his glasses and flips open his new assignment, his eyes skimming over anything of mild importance. This latest bet would help him keep his mind off unpleasant thoughts for the time being at least. And he didn't plan on losing.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

"Ideas. Ideas. Ideas. Where do they come from?"

This mumbling could be heard from behind a pile of papers that would rival even Williams. The owner of this voice was hastily scribbling down notes for his least novel, occasionally reaching up to scratch his head as he pondered the placement of events.

Sighing heavily he shakes his head, pushing layers of reddening hair, a side affect of his coma, out of his eyes. It had been five years since he'd come back to the land of the living from his injury induced comatose. Since then, he'd decided to choose a safer occupation, a novelist. Though his fiancé was sceptical, he couldn't help but follow his dreams and had currently written three books as a result. But this time was different. The ideas he was currently using to fuel his latest novel felt much more personal than the others. Like they were coming straight from his soul. Lowering his eyes to the page, he continues writing.

"A world of mystery. Of death and life." He chirps happily. "Inhabited by..." here he stops and taps his quill thoughtfully against his temple.

"Reapers."


	3. Its all in the writing

The scarlet clad reaper sat motionless among the rooftops as he watched his target below. It too great control for him to able to perform this task, but here he was, watching the demon converse with the young mortal below. His job tonight was to exterminate the one known as Sebastian. He shudders inwardly at the thought of what he had to do. To touch a demon was... Disgusting. Heaving a dramatic sigh, he straightens his jacket before dropping from the roof, his scythe close by his side.

"Oh Sebas-chan~" He purrs seductively. "What a pleasant surprise to se you wandering the darker parts of town. Especially with some one as young as he." Tossing his hair back dramatically, he saunters over to the black suited man and bats his eyelashes.

Sebastian narrows his eyes. "Is there something you need reaper?"

The redhead steps closer and pulls on the demons arm, a wide grin gracing his ruby lips. "All I could ever want is you~ But since you tend to enjoy the company of... Younger men," He remarks, looking over his glasses at the blue haired boy. "I'll have to fight for what I want," Oh how Grell loathed having to act the part of the lovesick fool, especially to a demon. But acting was all it was. And if he wanted to get close enough to dispose of his target, it had to be done.

The demon growls slightly, his eyes narrowing even more as he shakes the reaper off. "My Lord, how do you wish for me to proceed?" The young boy taps his foot impatiently. "Dispose of the reaper so we can return to the manor. I'm ready for evening tea." He says evenly. The demon nods. "As you wish." Then, making sure his master was out of harms way, he charges at Grell, his knives already in his grasp.

The reaper watches with detached fascination as his opponent gains momentum and launches himself into the air. As much as he hated their kind, he couldn't deny the power they had, even in humanoid form. "Is that any way to treat a lady?" He taunts, bringing his chainsaw to life in one quick motion. If he timed it correctly, he could slice the demon in half before he even hit the ground. However, an easy fight wasn't what he was prepared for. He jumps back as cutlery clatters to the cobbles where he had just stood, followed by the heavy thud of polished shoes on stone. He didn't even have time to react as the taller male lanched another volley of knives, narrowly missing Grell head.

"Honestly Sebastian! I think you've grown rusty caring for the brat~" He purrs, lifting his chainsaw to deflect the attack. "You'd have much more fun with me."

"Your incessant chatter is grating on my nerves reaper. My master wants you destroyed, therefore it is my duty to follow through with his wishes to the best of my abilities." He snarls. Suddenly he was behind Grell, his slim fingers grabbing at the younger males hair and slamming him into the wall. Grell lets out a pained huff before hooking a leg around his attackers and bringing him to the ground in one fluid motion. Before the demon could recover he presses the edge of his scythe against his neck, successfully pinning him.

"Incessant? I rather enjoy our little chats." He pouts, running a manicured hand over his bruising jaw. "But now its time for you to die, Sebastian. Oh how I'll miss you." He lies before lifting his chainsaw above his head. But when he brings it down again, the other male is gone. Bewildered, he spins around just as a fist flies at his face, catching the right side of his already pained jaw. He stumbles back as another and another slam into his torso.

The demon was gaining ground, not even giving the redhead enough time to lift his weapon as a block. At this rate, the raven could easily carry out his masters orders. With a sly grin he watches as Grell trips on uneven ground, his back slamming against the cobbles with a sickening thud. _Perfect. _Flicking another knife from his pocket, he grabs the reapers arm and hauls him to his feet.

"The only death tonight will be yours, Grell." He hisses evilly. "Goodnight."

Grell watches absently as the knife descends towards his chest, only to be deflected by a long metallic pole. Sebastian snarls angrily and jumps back, dropping his prey unceremoniously as he avoids another attack from the strange object.

"Sutcliff. It seems you've failed in the eradication of the demon once again." A deep voice inquires. The stranger sighs in frustration as he steps out of the shadows, a familiar leather bound book in his grasp. It seemed as if the surrounding area had dropped several degrees as the dark haired reaper glares at his subordinate. Yet Grell couldn't keep the smile off his lips as he gazed up at his superior. The demon had nothing on this silent and deadly male.

"Oi~ William! Have you come to help?" He chirps happily, his defeat clearly forgotten.

Will pushes up his glasses boredly and fixes Grell with a steely glare. "More like I've come to clean up after you, Sutcliff. You've failed to not only kill the demon, but you've proved once again that you aren't competent enough to keep the target in range until back up arrived." He says calmly, gesturing to the now empty alley, save the two of them.

The smaller male brushes dirt off his jacket before retrieving his scythe. "We were just doing a little bit of dancing, William dear. His demise will come eventually." Grell says happily. He could never explain the feeling he got when seeing the older male. He wasn't sure if it was love exactly. But he felt a keen sense of safety and affection when around him.

William gives an unsatisfied grunt before whacking Grell in the head with his scythe, breaking his dreamy state. "Eventually was not in the case description." He retorts. "You'll need to work harder to pay back for your Jack the Ripper incident or I'll-"

But Grell never found out what William would do because at that moment Jacob had awoken from his dream to the smell of quiche wafting up from the kitchen. The hearty smell of eggs and tea was enough to bring the tired writer from his dream of fictional characters. Heaving a long yawn, he flings his feet over the edge of the bed, his dark burgundy locks a mess. He smiles lazily as his eyes drift over the sheets of notes scattered around his room. He'd need to add his latest dream to the brainstorming process.

"Another character has joined the tale." He mumbles. "One cold hearted reaper by the name of William. What a fascinating development." Jacob was subject to many dreams during the writing process, but lately they had become even more detailed, including names and even relationships. It was almost like the story was already planned out, only giving him bits and pieces to work with at a time.

"Jacob darling! Breakfast is ready!"

Lydia. The petite raven hired woman was the first person he'd seen after waking up in the hospital. His fiancé of three years prior apparently. He didn't know how he felt about that honestly.. Her dark hair, fine cheek bones, and the way her eyes seemed to shine with a burgundy glow unnerved him. Her long, slim fingers and thin bodice wasn't much his preference anymore he supposed. Well actually, his preferences had changed entirely since his reawakening. He'd noticed himself taking a fine enjoyment in the company of men lately, it confused him. He gives a tired shrug and runs ink stained fingers through his hair. "She cooks and cleans... Why am I complaining?" HE yawns. It was true. Lydia's cooking was high grade, better than he could afford at least. He'd spent the past couple years trying to find that spark that made him ask her hand in marriage in the first place, but he couldn't. He just hoped she hadn't caught on yet.

"Coming!" He calls down the stairs before grabbing his robe. The soft scarlet material caressed his skin and he pulls it closer, savouring the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla. Tying it around his waist, he pulls their bedroom door closed wit a soft click and clomps down the stairs and into the well lit kitchenette.

"Its about time you got out of bed. The days nearly done and gone!" Lydia mutters. "And here I thought today would be the day you got a real job."

Jacob rolls his eyes as he rounds the table and plants a quick kiss on his fiancés cheek. "I already have a job dear. And speaking of which, I think I've discovered another character to join the mix. A cold hearted reaper!" He chirps enthusiastically, grabbing her hand and spinning her around. "when he walks, the very depths of your soul shakes from fear. His eyes hold wisdom far beyond his subordinates. He finishes his description with a quick wave of his hand.

Lydia rolls her eyes and pushes him away. "Much like the flamboyant redhead that haunts your dreams, right?" Jacob feels a twinge of hurt as she so easily dismisses his thoughts. The redhead in question just so happened to be his favourite character. His flippant personality was one that he enjoyed writing about. Yet he hadn't found a name for him yet. "Come now Jacob darling. Leave behind your fantasies and go get a real job." She huffs in exasperation. "Writing isn't getting you anything but debt. You don't have enough money to keep this up." It was moments like this that he wondered why he had fallen for the ruby lipped woman.

With a heavy sigh he grabs a plate from the cupboard and dishes up his breakfast. "Yes Lydia. I'll get right on that."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

William fixes his glasses as his gaze travels around the disastrous excuse for a room. There were papers and inkwells scattered everywhere, quills left balancing precariously on books. The room of a writer it seemed.

"What a mess." William grumbles as he rifles through the loose parchment on the desk. It was mostly bills and financial papers. With a sigh, he drops the papers and scans the room again. He had decided to gather some insight to Mr. McGrath's home life before searching for a reason to spare him. Very few humans were beneficial enough to society to spare and William believed that this time would be no different.

"A late twenties male. Disorganized writer." He flip open his book and searches for Jacobs records. "Engaged to... Miss Lydia Furnet." He sighs. "Nothing overly spectacular about Mr. McGarth. Perhaps a stroll through his writing is due." He ponders as he picks up a stack of crumpled papers.

William quite enjoyed reading for pleasure when he wasn't worrying about work. So the prospect of reaping an authors soul interested him. As he skims over the first page, one word stands out to him among the rest.

**Reaper.**

He tilts his head and reads it again, his fingers threatening to crumple the delicate sheets. "Reapers aren't common knowledge among mere mortals. How could he..." He trails off as his own name appears on the paper. Slowly he lowers the sheets and looks around. How could Jacob know about the death gods? Moreover, how could he know about him specifically? He had never conversed with their kind other than to reap them. "I must be overreacting." He mutters as he looks down at the papers and continues reading.

_The iron fisted. The cold hearted. The quick witted. And he wont give me the time of day._

_I remember it like it was yesterday. The day we would both become full fledged reapers, something I had worked so hard to achieve. And yet, here I was, paired with a half wit. A B average. He was nothing to me then, just another man in my way. That all changed when I saw how cold his heart could be, even before he became my superior._

_I will always love that hard glare of his. The way his glasses fog slightly when he's embarrassed. I will always love William T. Spears._

_Sincerely,_

William couldn't believe his eyes. His hands shake slightly as he reads it over again, the last word ending in a splotch of ink, like the author had forgotten what to write. He lets out a single breath in the form of one word.

"Grell."

After all these years, why was it coming up now? He had almost gotten over that night. Almost forgotten those bright green orbs that used to follow his every move with the utmost adoration. the nimble fingers that would clutch at his jacket out of mere excitement. With trembling hands, he drops the papers back on the desk and picks up a loose quill, the tip already wet with ink. He didn't know how Jacob could write so perfectly about the flamboyant reaper, but since he was, he should at least know his name.

With a precise scrawl only known to William himself, he writes the name of his late subordinate at the bottom of the page, large enough to be noticeable by the mortal who had written it. This small act brings a sense of accomplishment to the dark haired reaper as he sets the quill down. He would have to figure out how Jacob knew so much about Grell, but first, he'd have to talk to an accomplice of his. Grabbing a sheet of paper off the desk, he shoves it in his pocket and heads to the window.

He'd have to grab a biscuit before visiting. Making a fool of himself for information wasn't in his best interest, he thinks as he climbs out the window and onto the roof. He had three and a half weeks to decide whether to reap his soul or not. But if there was a chance that Jacob was connected to Grell, could he bring himself to do it?

**A/N**

Wow! You guys have really taken a liking in my fanfic! Thanks so much to all the people that have followed and favourited! I'm glad you're taking a liking in the storyline (how little of it there is). By the way, did anyone notice similarities between Miss Lydia and another Kuroshitsuji character~? Just wondering. ANYWAYS! I hope I can continue to keep you all intrigued!

Pepkie Out~


	4. Information Withheld

The morticians shop wasn't much honestly. But William knew that the man that hid inside had the answers to his dilemma. He had to, being as informed of the Underworld as he was. The dark haired reaper takes a deep breath before entering the old building.

What met him inside was hardly strange for his companions nature. The front room was dark with seemingly randomly placed candles scattered on every available surface, clearly a fire hazard. Mixed in with the candle and other various items were skulls of various sizes that made even William cringe. He supposed it suited someone of Adrian's... expertise.

"Adrian." Will calls into the darkness. "Would you care to reveal yourself. I know you're in there."

A low chuckles erupts from the darkness in reply. "Dear, dear William~ Please call me by my name." The mysterious voice chides.

Will rolls his eyes. "Your name is Adri-"

"Ah~ Ah~ Ah~ I go by the alias Undertaker now. Now why have you graced me with your opulent presence, Spears?" The voice drawls, an uncharacteristic edge to its voice.

William recognizes this as a warning that if he didn't interest his informant soon, he wouldn't get the answers he came for. And that was not an option. "I came for the same reason everyone else comes to this tiresome shop."

"To entertain me?" The shadows chuckle. "There seems to be a lot of that coming my way lately. Entertainment... Hmmm~"

"Information." Will snaps. But he composes himself before continuing. "I've brought you an alternate exchange for the information you will provide me." He says, reaching into his pocket and dropping a handful of biscuits on the nearest coffin. There's a pause before a pale hand snakes out from the shadows and snatches the nearest biscuit before retreating again.

"Hmm. So you think you can persuade me with treats like a common hound?" However, before The younger reaper could object, a dry snap echoes through the shop as the man behind the shadows takes the bait, just as planned. "Not bad." He hums absently. "Though it might not be enough to get all the information you want~"

"That will be determined shortly. However I loathe the feeling of talking to myself, do come into the light."

"As you wish."

The shadows shift suddenly as a figure emerges from seemingly nowhere. A long, ebony robe drapes languidly over the closest coffin as a pale face peers from the shadows. The trademark eyes of a death god blinking absently in the rooms only light. William knew that even without glasses, Adrian's eyes were as good, if not better than his own. Yet they looked so childlike, even now. And paired with that ridiculous hat and long silver hair, he hardly looked like the reaper from the beginning.

William fixes his glasses with an irritated huff. "Thank you. Now. I came to confide in you about a situation that I have come across. Do you believe in soul swapping?" He asks, slipping the folded paper from Jacobs book out of his pocket.

"A soul swap?" The bright eyed man repeats. Then he chuckles. "Are you still going on about that night William? You do realize there really was nothing you could do right?"

"If I had gotten there just a moment sooner he might- no. Well yes. I wouldn't say I'm going on about it, but I think I may have found concrete proof that he's still here, Adri-"

"Undertaker."

"Undertaker." He growls, his patience wearing thin even though his counterpart had done nothing to warrant that. "I was recently partaking in the recon of a soul. During my research I found an interesting piece of pape-"

"Do you remember the last time the both of you showed up in my shop? I was surprised to see you again after how flustered you were just before you left. Though I don't think Grell minded very much, do you?"

At this the younger reaper slams his hands down on the coffin separating them. "Enough Undertaker! Just answer the damn question!" The sudden outburst takes the older man by surprise, but even through his anger, Will couldn't help but be dragged into the past again...

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

"Stop dragging your feet darling~ if you really want to find out if the children are alive he's the best person to talk to."

Will had never liked the feeling he got when he entered the morticians shop, but he knew Grell was right. If anyone knew whether the missing children were alive or not, it was Adrian. "I'm well aware of his status, Sutcliff. There's no need to remind me." He huffs before following the redhead inside.

"Aaaaand he's quite the looker too~ What with the long hair and dashing facial features. Makes a woman all hot and bothered!" The younger male purrs as he walks across the room. William guessed Grell was bluffing since he hadn't even seen Adrian's face for himself, but decided not to point it out. Instead he addresses the figure in black.

"Good evening Adrian, we've come to ask of your assistance."

The grey haired man was perched languidly on one of his many coffins, his fingers idly pulling on the hem of his cloak. He looks up as Williams voice echoes through the room, wide smile gracing his lips. "Ah~ If it isn't William T. Spears and his companion, Mr. Sutcliff. What a pleasant surprise."

Grell makes an irritated nose. "Miss if you will~" Just as will speaks up. "We're not companions."

This make Undertaker giggle slightly. "Hehe how you two jabber is quite amusing to me indeed~ what is it you wanted?"

"Information as usual." Will says. "Have you gotten any youths being fitted for death as of late?"

Undertaker ponders this a moment before grinning. "If I have or haven't will only be revealed if you entertain me~ you know how this wor-" but before he could finish, Grell bounces excitedly. "Oh Will! Tell him a joke!" He chirps, pulling on the dark haired mans arm. Will glares down at his excited partner. "You and I both know that jokes are not my expertise." He growls. "However, the fundamentals of laughing are quite extreme. They tend to relieve stress and prolong youthfulness apparently."

"Oh don't bore him now!" The saw wielder chides. "Do tell him something funny~ you must have at least a dash of humour don't you?" He purrs, placing a delicate hand on Will's shoulder. This action in itself issues a snort from the Undertaker. At this, Grell gets a marvellous idea. Ignoring his superiors glare, he begins walking his fingers over his arm. "Oh right I forgot~ you're working with the 'strong and silent' persona aren't you? You're doing it beautifully might I add."

Will growls slightly, glaring at the hand invading his personal space. "I don't see how that has anything to do with our current situa-"

But before he could finish, he's pulled into a rough embrace as Grell pulls him down and presses his lips against his. The kiss was quick and sloppy, far from Grells best performance, but it was better than nothing.

"Wha-!" William stutters, pushing Grell away quickly and trying to hide the light blush on his cheeks. But Grell had seen it. And so had Undertaker because he was currently rolling around on his coffin, high pitched giggles escaping his lips.

"He's laughing hon, you can ask him now~" Grell says boredly, examining his nails in an attempt to hide how much he really enjoyed their encounter. But Will was too confused to even begin asking Undertaker what he had planned, which was a first as far as he remembered...

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

William is brought back into the present by the crinkle of paper as Undertaker snatches the piece of paper from his hands, which were still braced on the coffin. Composing himself, he stands up straight and fixes his jacket, slightly embarrassed by his outburst.

Undertaker takes a moment to look over the paper before an almost imperceptible smile flashes across his features. Then he clears his throat and begins reading.

"There's a strange feeling you get when someone stares into your soul. Like they're reading every bit of you in one glance, learning all your deepest, darkest secrets. This is what it feels like when he looks at me. Like he sees my secrets. But his eyes are so cold that I wouldn't be surprised if he could kill with that same glance."

Then he looks over the paper. "You miss him so much that you stole his diary?" He jokingly accuses.

Will just stares at the paper in shock. Then he says: "no... As I was trying to tell you before, the human whose soul I will be collecting shortly has been writing shockingly familiar passages to G- to him." He could hardly bring himself to say his name anymore. "Which wouldn't bother me except for the fact that reapers don't associate with mortals. So how would Jacob know such... Personal things about him?"

The older male nods understandingly. "It is strange isn't it? As for what I know, as far as I can remember it's a rare occurrence. But when a reaper unsuccessfully reaps a soul, the soul is set free on the spiritual plane until it can find a proper match to continue it's life on this plane. That's why it is direly important that a soul be reap to the utmost succession."

"Is it possible to reap a reapers soul?"

Undertaker chuckles. "Not exactly. You a see a reaper is a nearly immortal being. Very few things can kill us... Mmm besides demons. And when we DO die, our soul fragments are locked in a vault under the institute."

Will ponders this. "So Is it possible that his soul escaped the vault?"

The grey haired man shrugs. "Stranger things have happened in my lifetime. It's a possibility~" He chuckles. "Now why don't you run along and learn more about Grells new body~?" He says, motioning towards the door.

William frowns slightly but heads to the door anyways. "Thank you for your assistance. It was very helpful indeed." He says, opening the door.

"Oh and one last thing," The man from the shadows calls. "Don't forget about your past Mr. Spears. It's more important than you realize." That's the last thing Will hears before the door shuts behind him and he's swept up in the bustle of mid-day London.

"What a strange man." He mutters before heading on his way.


	5. New Plans

Death of a Reaper 4

"I don't think Lydia realizes how difficult it is to find a job these days." Jacob huffs as he stumbles out of his latest rejection. He'd tried everywhere. The baker, the polisher, the dressmaker. But nobody was looking for a run of the mill author in need of cash. "Hmm. Where had I worked before? Do I dare go back there after my accident?" The place in question was the local blacksmith. Apparently he had worked there since his youth and had become quite good at it judging by the calluses that had graced his hands when he'd awoken from his coma. Since then, his hands had become soft save the places were he regularly clutched his quill. "No. I don't think going back there would be good for my health." He mutters, stepping back into the foot traffic of London.

Meanwhile across town, Lydia Furnet was busy cleaning her already spotless kitchen. She wasn't known to be messy and loved to awe guests with her cleanliness. The only room she wasn't allowed to touch was the one she shared with Jacob. The one that was constantly scattered with enough paper and ink to make her head spin.

"Maybe just a little touch up. He won't notice." She mutters. "He doesn't notice very much these days anyways."

With her jaw set, she begins her climb up the stairs, each step creaking beneath her weight. She'd have to get that fixed. She pauses briefly outside the door, her hand frozen on the handle. Would Jacob return and accuse her of snooping? She chuckles. More like drag her into another description of his story, convinced that she really was interested. Slowly she opens the door and slips inside, letting it fall shut behind her with a quiet click.

"And he wonders why I prefer the guest room." She huffs, her burgundy eyes scanning the room. "Nothing but useless notes and empty inkwells. Might as well start at the beginning." She says, reaching down to pick up a few scattered quills. She didn't understand her fiancés need to be so scatterbrained. He was even too blind to notice that they were so far in debt that she had had to pick up an occupation of her own. She shudders slightly as she remembers the feeling of callused hands running over her skin. Her customers weren't as kind as they had promised.

"But no matter. Once Jacob finds a suitable job, our financial problems will be gone." She stops. "Maybe he'll go back to the smith shop. Yes... That made us lots of money." The freak accident that had nearly killed him was due to a careless intern. The newcomer had swung his hammer as Jacob had walked by and nearly cracked his skull in half. She remembered the call, the blood, and his pale, lifeless face as she had sat by his bedside for two years. "And then he wakes up and refuses to go back to work!" She growls, throwing and empty ink pot across the room. It hits the wall hard and shatters to the floor in multiple pieces.

"My my. What temper you have." A cool voice remarks.

Lydia spins around, eyes wide, as she gazes at the figure sitting on the window sill. The stranger was clearly male, dressed in a long black wool coat and grey slacks. He inclines his head politely and pushes up his glasses.

Lydia was shocked. "H-how did you get in here?" She stutters.

"That is of no concern to you, Miss Furnet." The figure states, sliding from the window sill and walking towards her. When Lydia doesn't retreat, he extends his hand as greeting. "My name is Alan. Alan Humphries. It's come to my attention that your having a bit of financial difficulties."

Lydia gazes at his hand cautiously. "Well perhaps a bit.. May I ask why you couldn't have knocked on my door Mr. Humphries?" She questions, shaking his hand quickly.

Alan chuckles. "Oh but I did. But since no one answered I decided to check your room. But only because I have an incredibly efficient way to get you back on your feet. That is... If you'll listen." He purrs, motioning for her to sit on the bed.

She obliges and he continues. "You see Miss Furnet, it does not pay to be unhappy." He states, motioning around the room. "A woman like yourself deserves a man that can love and care for her, correct?"

Lydia nods slowly. "Yes I would say so. Now what does this have to do with money?"

"Everything. For doesn't the world run on it?" The young reaper laughs. "I have a proposition for you, Lydia. You see, I work for an underground organization that sets out to help distressed women like yourself. I've come to inform you of a little policy that is spreading through England like wildfire." He waits a moment for her to take it in, then says. "An accidental death policy."

Lydia raises an eyebrow. "Accidental death? But that's absurd. Jacob isn't going to die. He's perfectly healthy."

"Oh yes. But accidents do happen. And if Jacob were to become subject to an accident that permanently took his life, you would continue to get his payments from the job that he most recently had."

At this, a small spark lights in Lydia's eyes, eliciting a small smirk from Alan. "You're saying that if Jacob has another accident, I'll keep getting his pay?"

"Exactly."

Then the woman frowns. "But that means Jacob will have to die. That's quite extreme don't you think?"

"No not at all. He's caused you such strife since his awakening. And that head injury will only get worse over the years until he's no use to you at all. It's best to be gone with him in the early stages of his condition." He says boredly, pulling a satin cloth from his packet and cleaning his glasses. "Of course you can't plan an accident, Miss Furnet. I'm sure you're aware of that. Therefore, I'll need your cooperation if our little bet is to work out accordingly."

"Bet?" She questions.

Alan pauses briefly, thinking about his bet with the superior. Then he clears his throat and continues. "Yes bet. That's how I refer to these deals. Anyways, what I need you to do is administer his death to him, Lydia."

Lydia gasps. "You want me to kill my fiancé?! But... Won't I be put away for that?"

Alan shakes his head as he repositions his glasses. "No no no. Not if if looks like an accident~" He says, flashing her a bright smile. "I've already planned out his unfortunate end. You just need to make sure it happens." He states, strolling over to the floor length mirror. Without hesitation, he raises his cane and smashes his reflection, watching as deadly pieces rain onto the floor around his feet. He smirks at the woman's gasp of shock. "Behind every mirror is a secret." He says softly as he breaks a piece of the backing off and holds it up. "Mercury. A fine slow death when given in small doses. All I need you to do is put some in his tea whenever he drinks it. And because you'll be by his side in his final hours, weeping by his bedside like you did once before, they won't suspect you. And even if they do... You could always blame it on the tea maker. There have been several cases of drugs being smuggled in amongst London's tea trade."

Lydia ponders this. Could she really do away with her fiancé for money? She chuckles. Of course she could. Besides, if Alan was right, Jacob would become useless to her if his head injury got worse. The spark that had made her fall for him had vanished when he'd woken years before. This was the cure she'd been thinking about herself recently, brought to her by an angel in black. No. She wouldn't pass up on this.

"Yes of course Mr. Humphries. I would be delighted to help." She says quickly. "A few pieces of mercury a d-"

"No! You mustn't kill him outright." Alan scolds. "Grind up the metal into a powder and only administer a dash a cup. A max of three cups a day Miss Furnet. No more no less, do you understand?"

"Yes of course sir. I will follow as you say." She says rather dejectedly. Then she perks up. "Does this mean ill get pay from his blacksmithing occupation? The one that nearly killed him the first time?"

"Yes."

This is the last thing she hears as the figure in black climbs back out the window and disappears, his work clearly done here. Lydia sighs as she gazes at the shattered mirror.

"Goodbye, Jacob."

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Alan knew that interfering in another reapers soul collection was punishable by suspension, but he couldn't let William win. If The mortal woman followed his directions correctly, Mr. McGarth would die before his expected date. Which would be quite the accident indeed~ he chuckles to himself as he walks along the rooftops. This would hopefully take William off by surprise, leaving him with barely enough time to collect his soul before the mortal died.

"Yes. And then new recruits will be in short order. A marvellous plan really." He hums as he makes his way back to the institute. Not aware of the green eyes following his every move, a pink pen clutched delicately in the strangers hand.

A/N

No flash back in this chapter... But maybe I'll start the next one with an exciting Grell scene? Who knows. And who in the world expected Alan to be behind Grells- I mean Jacobs death?! Tune in next time to find out just WHO was watching Alan leave Miss Furnets presence!

Oh and while you're at it, would you care to check out our new one shot collection? Courtesy of myself (Pepkie) and my wonderful co-writer Dark Marie~! -fanfare- she's also writing a fanfic including an AlicexHatter pairing if anyone's interested~

Pepkie out~


End file.
